Part of the Job
by enigma939
Summary: James Bond tells Miss Moneypenny what it feels like to kill people and how he goes about it. One shot.


**Part of the Job**

**A/N: **Just a little one-shot I thought up about Bond and Miss Moneypenny. It occurred to me that we never really see them discussing anything more meaningful than their flirtatious relationship. So I thought it would be interesting to see them discussing the darker aspects of his work in the Secret Service.

James Bond and related characters are the properties of EON Productions and Ian Fleming Publications.

James Bond, 007, one of the British Secret Service's most accomplished agents, was seated in the ante-chamber outside M's office. The MI6 chief was busy briefing another agent, 004, who would soon be departing for a mission in Lebanon. Bond, who had just returned from a lengthy assignment in the Caribbean, was thus forced to patiently outside. And patience, though it was something which had often saved his life on the field, was simply not one of Bond's virtues in his life _off _the field.

But the secret agent wasn't entirely on his own. He had M's secretary, Miss Moneypenny to keep him company. Moneypenny, with whom Bond had long shared a playfully flirtatious relationship, had been quite enthusiastic in welcoming 007 back home, and kept exchanging pleasantries with him, even as she was hard at work on her computer.

Bond, who was reading a travel magazine he had bought from a newsstand at the Kingston airport, yawned and stood up. He was getting bored to death and needed something to do. So he strode across the room to where Miss Moneypenny was engrossed in her work. He played his hands on either end of her swivel chair, bent his head down to just a little above hers, and asked, "What exactly is it you're working on so diligently, Penny?"

"Oh, James! This really is a horrible habit of your's…sneaking up on people like that", Moneypenny groaned.

"Well, you see Moneypenny, you're probably one of the few people in the world I can sneak up on whom I don't have to kill five minutes later", Bond replied casually, though there was a heavy element of truth hidden in his words.

"Well James, while we're on the subject of your worldly _exploits_ you would be interested to know that I am currently compiling the records for all the men you bumped off on your nice little vacation", Moneypenny replied, matter-of-factly.

"Oh!" Bond exclaimed, surprised, though he did not know why. After all, even though his activities as a Double O operative were largely beyond the purview of politics and bureaucratic restraints, yet Ministry of Defense regulations demanded that at the very least, highly classified and buried secret records of potentially controversial actions carried out by agents should be maintained. Bond knew that each of his kills was recorded in a file somewhere, a file that rapidly grew with each mission he undertook, and he realized now, if he surprisingly hadn't before, that Miss Moneypenny was the one who compiled the records of his kills!

It occurred to Bond then that Moneypenny knew practically nothing about his life in the field. She knew a fair bit about his civilian life in London and the monotonous life he spent behind a desk in MI6 between assignments, but she knew nothing about that other _darker_ aspect of his existence. She was always there to bid him goodbye when he left, and was the first to welcome him when he returned, but she knew nothing about what went on in between…Nothing first hand, that was. Of course, she did receive detailed reports of his exploits from MI6 station heads across the world, as well as other agents who'd worked with or under him. And he knew now that she compiled lists of people he'd killed. He wondered now whether her opinion of him had, in any way, been changed by what she had learnt about his professional life over the years. For ultimately, charming and debonair as he often was, he was a killer. A killer for Queen and Country, but a killer nonetheless! And she undoubtedly knew it…

As though she had been reading his thoughts, Moneypenny's voice intruded on them. "James", she said softly, even as her hands worked feverishly upon her keyboard, "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course", Bond replied.

Moneypenny stopped typing and turned her chair towards him. She looked at him for a few seconds before she sighed and said, "I honestly don't know quite _how _to put this question to you, but…", she took a deep breath and continued, clearly emphasizing each and every word as though she were reading out an official communiqué to M rather than asking Bond a very personal question about his professional life. "James, how does it fee when you…_kill _all those people?"

For a minute, a wall of impenetrable silence fell between the two. Secretary and spy stared at each other wordlessly. Bond's face was stoical and stone-like; utterly devoid of emotion. He was not the suave and sophisticated man he often pretended to be in more social surroundings. He was, at the moment, the cold and calculating machine of subversion and death.

Finally, it was Moneypenny who stared into his cold blue-grey eyes and perceived someone or something which she had seldom noticed before. And it was she who broke the silence, "I-I'm sorry James…maybe I shouldn't have…are you alright?"

The spell was broken. The briefest hint of a smile flitted over James Bond's face as he replied, "Yes I'm fine, Moneypenny. It's alright".

He then took a deep breath. Deep within his mind, he was making a decision. He rarely liked discussing the darker and more lethal aspects of his work with others. He usually made an exception in the case of fellow agents like Felix Leiter or Rene Mathis, who were also part of the shadowy world of espionage on a daily basis. And he did occasionally confide in the MI6 psychiatric consultant, Sir James Moloney. But to discuss such things as killing, which was a refined professional skill for him, with _civilians _was something he usually tried to avoid.

But not _this _time. After all, Moneypenny deserved to know the whole truth. She sat in this office all day long, receiving, reviewing and sending reports, knowing that she was contributing to a system which entailed the deaths of countless unknown people all around the world, without ever actually knowing how these deaths were accomplished. She met killers like him every day of her life in this office, flirted with them even, knowing what they did out in the field, but never knowing how they accomplished those feats and how they felt! No, Bond thought, Moneypenny deserved an answer. Perhaps it would be somewhat anti-climatic to her; perhaps it wasn't the one she was expecting, but it would be _something _nonetheless…

"You see, Penny…" he began. "when I'm out there, I'm on a job. It's as simple as that. It's not a mission; not a patriotic campaign for the safety and security of Queen and Country. Just a job. And I'm a professional and I realize when I'm out in the field that I must always _act _like the professional. Detached, unemotional, objective. And there are aspects to my job; tasks I need to carry out as efficiently as any good professional must. You know how a chef must light up the stove or a race-car driver must turn on the ignition or a secretary", he nodded towards Moneypenny, "must scribble notes…all of them carry out these basic tasks intrinsic to their professions; as I must carry out those tasks intrinsic to mine. And just like _they _don't think twice about doing any of those things, neither should I! So when I see a man in front of me who is to be eliminated, I simply pull the trigger or plunge the knife the same way an executive signs contracts. Without thinking too much about it, just focusing on doing it properly. It's all _part of the job _you see. _Just _part of the job. No more, no less".

Bond paused for a moment, and then continued, "Sometimes, much after the fact, maybe over a few drinks while I'm waiting in a lounge at an airport or railway station, I _do _think about what I've done. The faces do however before my mind's eye. Most of the time, I simply push those thoughts aside. I tell myself that these men I've killed were _themselves_ killers and they therefore deserved to die. I'm merely the instrument of society's vengeance. I know it's a thoroughly narrow-minded and hypocritical viewpoint; but there you have it…it's no better or worse than the viewpoint of every goddamn politician in this country; hell, even the whole _world_! And then there are times when I can't just drink it away like that, when the images return to haunt me in my sleep…well, let's just say that everyone has problems with their work once in a while. So do I. I just need to deal with them, like anyone else would. You get the idea, Moneypenny?"

Moneypenny paused for a moment after he finished. She lowered her gaze from his eyes for a few seconds before she replied, "Yes, I think so James. It's just part of the job! That's what you mean, isn't it?"

"That's _precisely _what I mean, Penny!" Bond said. "It's no different from your job or M's job, except that I don't have to sit behind a desk and sign papers all the time. I have to do _other _things as well. And it doesn't do either me, or the Service, or the country any good if I dwell too much upon those _other things _I have to do"

At that moment, 004 emerged from M's office, another killer for Queen and Country about to set out on a global escapade that would no doubt bring more death and destruction upon the enemies of Britain and world peace in general. The agent nodded curtly at Bond, who likewise bent his head in acknowledgement, and then smiled at Moneypenny, who smiled back and said "Good Luck!" before handing the agent an air ticket.

Bond gave Moneypenny a brief smile and strode into M's office, leaving her back at her work of compiling records of slain men. As unpleasant as it was, it was part of _her _job; just as killing those men had been part of his…It was a matter of mere practicality, nothing more…


End file.
